To the Ends of the Earth
by DaughterOfPoseidon333
Summary: Set after 1x08. Mary made a decision to leave behind France, the alliance, and, of course, Francis, the man she loves. Bash made a decision to accompany Mary, knowing his relationship with his brother could be ruined. Together, amongst the dangers of the forest and their own feelings for one another, Mary and Bash will make a decision: Run or return home? Mash. Rated T just in case
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, everybody! So, first off, it took me all one episode to fall in love with this show. It also took like a minute for me to fall in love with Bash =)**

**So, this is a Mash story. Don't get me wrong, I like Frary. The scenes with them are so cute. But then Bash comes on screen and my Mash-shipping heart takes over =)**

**This takes place after the mid-season finale, Fated. I don't know how long it will be yet. It'll definitely be a couple of chapters. I'll decide how long I'm going to make it once the show comes back in January (sigh, so far away).**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Reign. **

**Enjoy!**

Chapter One

They rode till the sun started to near its peak, telling Mary that it was midday. For the hours that they'd been riding, she'd been too focused on steering her horse, too focused on following Bash as far away from the castle—and Francis—as possible. Though they were far from the castle now, her heart still pounded as it had when she and Bash raced down the road, Francis screaming desperately after her. They slowed as they emerged from the edge of a strip of trees they'd been riding through and came upon a grassy meadow.

"Bash," she called out, her voice coming out a not much more than a gasp.

But it was loud enough that he heard her, pulling his horse to a halt.

"Can we just rest for a bit? Please? I-I..." Mary trailed off, her breath hitching in her throat. She thought she'd done a pretty good job of keeping her emotions in check, but now the weight of what she'd done was starting to catch up to her.

Without a word, Bash climbed of his horse, tying the reins to the nearest tree. He helped Mary off of her own steed, his strong hands steadying her. Once he'd secured her horse as well, his blue eyes found hers.

"Are you alright, Mary?" He asked gently.

She shook her head. "I don't know."

He was silent for a moment. "May I ask what all this is about? Your leaving, that is?"

"Nostradamus," she replied. "He had a vision that one of us would die and I didn't believe him, but then Aylee—" she broke off, the words catching, not making it last the lump in her throat, tears stinging in her eyes as she spoke of her friend.

Bash lifted a hand, like he wanted to reach out and touch her, comfort her somehow, but he hesitated, and after a moment let his hand fall back to his side.

"Nostradamus saw that if Francis and I wed, Francis would die. I didn't believe that either until Aylee died, and I…I couldn't let him die, Bash. If he'd died, it would have been all my fault, so I fled…" Mary felt tears drip down her face, and she cast her gaze away from Bash's.

This time, without a second of hesitation, Bash pulled her into his arms, one arm wrapping around her waist, the other stroking her hair as he whispered soothing words to her.

"It's alright, Mary." He murmured. "Everything's going to be alright. We're going to figure this out, I promise you."

They stood like that for a little while longer, Mary wrapped in Bash's warm embrace until her tears stopped and her sorrow and uncertainty was replaced with something close to numbness. Finally, Bash pulled away, still keeping his hands on her arms.

"We should get moving. Francis will no doubt have sent men out looking for you." he said, his azure eyes scanning the trees behind her as if he expected an armed guard to leap out at any second.

"Yes, of course," she agreed. "Where exactly are we headed?"

Bash gave her a little smirk. "I thought you already knew where we were going?"

Her only response was to furrow her brow in confusion.

He chuckled, the gestured his hand, spreading it widely in front of them. "_Far_, remember? You said it yourself that's where we were going,"

"_Bash,_" she huffed in frustration.

He laughed as he untied her horse, placing the reins in her open palm.

"You still haven't answered my question," she told him as she mounted.

Bash straddled his own horse. Instead of telling her what she wanted to know, he turned to look at her, the midday sun making his eyes sparkle like the sky above. He smiled slyly, gave her a wink, and rode off with a laugh, giving Mary no choice but to follow. As she caught up with him, her hair whipping around her face, she couldn't even be annoyed with him. Soon, she was laughing as well, and his smile only grew bigger at the sound.

For a minute, Mary forgot that she had just run away from her alliance, her marriage, and the man she loved just hours before. She forgot that she was Mary the Queen of Scots. Right now, in this moment, she was simply Mary. She was just a girl and Bash was just a boy. And right now, they were free.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Not long after, as they neared the river, Bash led both of their horses just inside the line of trees next to the forest road they were currently traveling. Mary immediately dismounted, stretching her legs and grabbing some bread from inside one of her saddlebags. Bash stayed atop of his horse, eyes examining the trees for threats that probably weren't there. They weren't deep enough into the forest to be at the complete mercy of the pagans, but that didn't mean they were completely out of reach.

Once he was satisfied that there was nobody near them, he hopped of his horse, giving the animal's neck a comforting pat. He reached into one of his own saddlebags and pulled out an apple. He found Mary seated at the base of a wide-trunked tree, chewing her bread silently. He sat down next to her, far enough away so that they weren't touching, but close enough so that he could feel the warmth radiating from her body and smell the flowers and vanilla scent that she carried with her everywhere.

"Thank you," she murmured when he used his dagger to cut off a chunk of apple for her.

After that, there was no more talking. He was alright with it though, as he had always been a friend of the silence. He watched Mary—watched as her eyes took in the trees, the green plants, the white flowers, the whistling birds around her. The sunlight that streamed through the branches of the trees created marvelous, dappled shadows across her. The beams that shone through danced across her skin. Her dark, silky hair fluttered in the light breeze that traveled in between the trunks of the trees. Bash felt the corners of his mouth pull up into a smile. He had never seen her more beautiful. Despite what a huge, consequential decision she had just made, she seemed freer, more at peace.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck rose. Bash stood up instantly, dropping his half-eaten apple and drawing his sword all in a matter of seconds. He eyes darted around, once again searching the trees. He _knew _something was wrong. He could feel it. Someone…something was out there…watching them.

"Bash?" Mary posed his name as a question as she stood, brushing crumbs off her hands.

"Shh," he whispered to her, holding out his other arm to ease her behind him, using his body as a shield for her.

Bash's head whipped around towards the horses as they started whinnying uneasily. He heard Mary give the slightest gasp as the bushes rustled off to their left. Bash sidestepped so was directly in front of Mary. He leveled his sword in front of him, his whole body alert as the horses became more restless. Mary stayed silent, but he could feel the nervous energy flowing off of her in waves. Suddenly, an arrow whistled past him, straight into the shoulder of his horse. Mary's horse reared and took off, the other following closely behind it. Mary cried out for the horses, and Bash cursed as they grew smaller and smaller in the distance. Another arrow whizzed past and sank into the tree next to them. Two more came at them, the last one embedding itself in the bark next to Mary's head.

Knowing full well that these were warning shots from the pagans or some other rogue, Bash took Mary's hand.

"Come on," he urged, sheathing his sword.

No footsteps—or arrows—followed them, but Bash moved quickly, Mary keeping up with him the whole time. They ran out of the thick of the trees and along the path. Bash took in his surroundings. He'd never traveled to this part of the woods, so the path was unfamiliar, but he figured it was a safer bet than running amongst the trees themselves. They were both breathing heavily as the trees thinned and they neared the river. He thought he could see the path diverging downhill, towards the water, but something in his gut told him otherwise. Bash slowed his pace, tugging on Mary's hand lightly to get her to do the same. It turned out his instinct had been right as they found themselves halted at the edge of a cliff, the precipice dropping off into the water below.

Bash released Mary's hand and took stock of their surroundings. If they went back the way they'd came, there was a chance they could find their horses and travel a different direction much faster than they would be able to on foot. But going back also meant the possibility of running into whoever had been aiming arrows at their heads. He figured it was some sort of bandit or rogue, as bows weren't the pagans' usual weapon—they preferred daggers to slit people's throats with. Still, all he had was a sword and a dagger. Their opponent had the advantage of distance. Bash would have to get close to do any real damage.

That left only one option.

Bash looked over the sheer drop-off, weighing their chances of survival if they jumped. The water wasn't moving fast, so there was less of a chance that the currents would carry them away. It looked deep enough, but it was hard to tell from way up here.

He heard a commotion—shouts and branches breaking—from the way they'd come. They had to jump soon.

"Mary?" he turned to look at her. She looked mildly frightened, but she was putting on a brave face, and it somehow made him admire her all the more. Most people would be cowering behind the nearest tree, but here she was, standing next to him, readying herself for whatever they were faced with.

"We're going to have to jump," he told her bluntly.

She paused, then nodded, meeting his eyes.

"Do you trust me, Mary?"

"Yes. I trust you." she responded.

He looked down, and took her hand in his. Then, together they jumped.

**So there's chapter 1! I hope you guys liked it =) Right now, I'm thinking the story will be about 5 chapters. Maybe longer depending on what happens in the next episode.**

**I will try to update within a week, but with the holidays coming up, we'll see how that goes =)**

**PLEASE REVIEW! Just take a minute or two to tell me what you guys think, it would really mean a lot to me! Especially on the first chapter, I really want to know what you guys thought, what you liked, didn't like, suggestions. Anything, really, just review, pretty please!**

**Thank you all for reading!**

**-DaughterOfPoseidon333 **


	2. Chapter 2

**So I'm gonna start by saying that the feedback that this story has received so far has been amazing! Thank you all so much for the reviews, the follows, and the favorites, they all mean so much to me! THANK YOU. I'm just so glad you're all enjoying it so far =)**

**I don't own Reign.**

**Enjoy!**

Chapter Two

It hadn't even been a full day since Francis watched Mary ride off into the early morning light—with his brother, no less—and he was already restless. He had been pacing the hallway in front of his chambers for the majority of the day, waiting for news from one of the soldiers he'd sent out looking for his fiancé. Since his father wouldn't let _him _ride out looking for her, he'd had no choice but to leave the task in the hands of others, leaving Francis to do nothing but worry. He wasn't just concerned, though, he was angry as well. Angry because he had no explanation as to why she'd left, and even more angry that she'd left with Bash by her side.

Francis sighed, but it did nothing to alleviate the emptiness that sat in the pit of his stomach. The image of Mary dashing off along the tree-lined road kept playing through his head. The apologetic, heart-breaking look on her face she gave him as she mounted her horse was engraved in his mind. He'd stayed on his knees for a long time, even after he could no longer see her figure in the distance.

They had been about to wed that day….everything had been perfect….until Aylee died and Mary fled.

"Your Grace," a voice sounded behind him, jolting him from his thoughts.

Francis turned to see Marcus, one of the soldiers he'd sent out looking for Mary.

"Marcus, what is it?" Francis asked, his tone coming out harsher than he intended. He gave the man an apologetic look, and Marcus nodded like he understood.

"I come with news," Marcus started.

"Have you found Mary?" Francis interrupted, feeling hopeful.

Marcus cast his eyes down for a moment, his face creasing with the regret that came with being the bearer of bad news. "I'm afraid not, Your Grace. But, we found their horses."

"Their horses?" Francis echoed. "Where?"

"Deep into the woods, my Lord. We tried tracking the horses' from their origin, but their tracks went on for miles. There are still others following their trail, but it may take a while. It appears the Lady Mary and Lord Sebastian traveled farther than we'd thought."

Francis exhaled, trying to control the panic that was seizing his heart. "No sign of any bodies?"

"No, my Lord." Marcus paused. "But one of the horses had an arrow in its shoulder."

Francis raised an eyebrow. "An arrow?"

"Yes, my Lord." Marcus nodded.

Francis waited for him to say more, but Marcus stayed silent.

"Thank you, Marcus. You are dismissed." Francis told him.

Marcus bowed respectively, then turned and headed down the hallway, leaving Francis alone with his worry and his aching heart.

"Mary, where are you?" he whispered to himself, expecting no answer.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

The fall seemed to last an eternity. There was nothing but the sound of the river below and the rushing of wind past their ears. On the way down, Bash felt Mary's hand slip out of his own, but he didn't have time to worry about it before they struck the water.

The initial shock came not from the impact, but from the cold. It seeped through his clothes, straight to his bones. He opened his eyes, but what he saw through the murky water was nothing more than a blur. Feeling his lungs burn for a breath, Bash kicked up towards the surface. The second his head broke the surface and he had gulped in his fill of fresh air, he swung his head around, looking for Mary. There was nothing.

"Mary?" he called, pushing his hair back from his forehead. He turned in the water, looking behind him once again. "Mary, where are you?"

"Mary!" he shouted, panic rising in his chest.

Just as he was about to dive down and search for her, he heard a gasp to his left, and he whipped his head around to see Mary's head break through the surface of the water.

"Mary," he called, relief flooding his voice.

She turned to him, her own relief at seeing him coloring her features. He swam over to her, surprised that she was staying afloat. Bash gripped her arm gently, leading her over towards the opposite shore. He climbed out onto the bank first, then offered his hand to Mary, which she gratefully took.

"Do you think they will follow us?" Mary asked, glancing warily at the other side of the river.

Bash shook his head. "No. There's no good place to cross anyway. And I don't think whoever it was will be too keen on jumping in. Speaking of," Bash turned to her. "You can swim?"

"Yes, of course." She replied, lifting her head a little higher.

Bash just laughed.

"What's so funny?" she said defensively.

Bash placed his hands on her upper arms, meeting her brown eyes. "You, Mary. You just never cease to surprise me. I'm always finding out something new about you. I find myself constantly in awe of you."

As Mary took in his words, he noticed her cheeks flush in the slightest, and she ducked her head, but he could see the small smile on her face as she did so. He looked at her, waiting to see if she would say anything, when his eyes caught on her hands clasped in front of her. He watched as several scarlet drops dripped from her hands and splattered onto the ground below their feet.

"Mary," he breathed, taking her hands in his.

Mary gasped as she noticed the blood for the first time. She instantly tried to snatch her now trembling hands away, but he held them fast. She no doubt was thinking about Aylee's blood on her hands.

"Mary, it's okay," he soothed.

He looked at her left hand, which seemed fine, save for the splotches of red on her fingers. Bash turned his gaze onto her right hand, where he saw the source of the blood. There was a small gash on her palm. It wasn't anything major, but it was bleeding quite a bit.

"Come here," Bash urged her calmly over to the river bank. "Let's get it washed clean,"

Mary tucked a strand of damp hair behind her ears as she watched his clean the blood of her hand. He rubbed his thumb in gentle circles around the wound, removing the blood. When he finished, having nothing else to cover the wound with, he cut off a strip of cloth from the bottom of his still soaked shirt. He carefully wrapped the cloth around her hand.

"Thank you," she said once he'd finished, giving him a small smile.

"Of course," he replied, returning the smile.

Bash turned to look at the sky. The sun had dropped a considerable amount since he'd last looked. They should set up camp soon. They wouldn't make it to the nearest town before nightfall, and he didn't want to travel at night, for fear that something might happen to Mary. He scanned the trees behind them for a spot when his eyes finally landed a small grassy clearing in a small cove of trees.

"Follow me," he told Mary, walking towards the trees. Upon reaching the spot he'd seen, it was even better at second glance. The trees were thick surrounding the small clearing, save for the small hole that opened to face the river. It would provide just the cover they needed for the night.

He turned to look at Mary. "I hope you don't mind sleeping on the ground,"

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Not long after they'd found their little place to rest for the night, Bash had gotten a fire going, and they'd taken stock of what supplies they had left after their horses had run off. Mary still had her satchel with her, and she'd pulled out several articles of jewelry that she'd brought in place of gold coins. Along with the jewelry, she'd pulled two apples out of her bag, and a loaf of soggy bread that was now toasting by the fire. Bash had his sword, dagger, and a skin of water. All in all, it wasn't much, but Bash had told her the nearest village wasn't too far, he just hadn't wanted to travel at night.

Mary sat at their make-shift camp now, trying to bring warmth back into her body after the cold of the river had soaked her clothes. She looked up at Bash, who was standing along the bank of the river. She watched as he shucked off his jacket, tossing it higher up onto the bank where it wouldn't get wet. His still damp white shirt clung to his chest, but not for long, as he reached down and pulled the garment over his head, mussing his hair.

She should have turned away and given him some privacy as he wrung out and cleaned his clothes, but Mary found she couldn't take her eyes off of him. The only other person she'd seen shirtless was Francis, but there was something about Bash…something that undeniably made her heart flutter just the slightest. She watched, entranced, as his muscles moved as he worked. Bash was broader, more muscular than Francis, no doubt from all of his sword practice. As he turned just slightly to grab his jacket, Mary caught a glimpse of the gash on his right side, from where he'd been stabbed. It was now just a scar, still tinged light pink as it was still only several weeks old, not old enough to have rendered it white. It made her heart twinge with guilt to think that he'd gotten that wound—and nearly died because of it—trying to help her.

Finally, Mary forced her gaze away from Bash. She focused her eyes on the yellow and orange hues of the fire before her, colors that matched the setting sun. She was so focused on _not _focusing on Bash, that she didn't even hear him approach till he sat down next to her. She felt his gaze on her, and without even looking at him, she could tell that he was smiling.

"Now, don't take this the wrong way, Your Grace, but you'd probably be warmer if you got out of that wet dress of yours," he told her.

She turned to him, narrowing her eyes. At least he had put his shirt back on, or her glare wouldn't have been nearly as effective.

He held up his hands in an innocent gesture. "You look cold, is all, huddled over their by the fire."

Mary didn't even try and deny it because she _was _cold, but she didn't want to admit that to him.

"If it'll make you more comfortable, I can turn away. And you can have my jacket if you like—it's dry." Bash told her.

Mary pondered that for a minute. She could be stubborn about it, or she could be warm. She sighed, and grabbed his jacket. Bash moved to turn around so she could take off her dress, but she put up a hand to stop him. He looked at her curiously, one eyebrow raised. In the dimming light, she hoped her blush wasn't as noticeable.

"I need your help," she mumbled. "The laces at the back…"

Understanding passed over his features, and then he stood without a word and came up behind her. She felt his fingers gently brush aside her hair so he could reach the laces that tied at the nape of her neck. Involuntarily, Mary felt herself shiver, but it wasn't from the cold. She felt her dress loosen at the neck, and immediately felt better as the warmth from the fire hit the skin that had been concealed underneath the fabric.

"Done," Bash whispered.

She turned to thank him, but he already turned around to give her some privacy, so her gratitude was left hanging on the tip of her tongue. Mary quickly pulled at her dress, freeing herself from the cold, damp fabric, leaving her in just her underdress, stockings, and boots. Mary felt slightly uncomfortable, being so undressed, so she hastily pulled Bash's jacket on. It was much too big on her, for which she was grateful for as it covered her. Plus, it smelled like him—like pine and sandalwood—which gave her a sense of comfort. She laid her dress out by the fire, then sat down.

"You can turn around now, Bash. I'm done." She said.

He looked at her as he took a seat next to her. He blue eyes, cobalt in the twilight, gave her a onceover and he smirked.

"What?" she asked.

"Hmm," he mused. "I can't decide whether I like this look on you better, or your usual dresses."

She laughed, shaking her head at him. "Must you tease about everything?"

"If it makes you laugh, then yes," he smiled at her, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Mary didn't know what to say. She couldn't help but think of the kiss they'd shared, Lola's warning to take care with him, Francis' accusatory words about the danger they'd both been put in with the pagans due to their feelings for each other. Did she have feelings for Bash? She loved Francis, she couldn't deny that. But she also couldn't deny that she felt strongly for Bash as well. She didn't know if she loved him, but when he was around, she felt lighter. She felt freer, she felt like she could do anything with him around. He made her braver and weaker all at the same time.

"Sometimes I wish you weren't so nice to me," she mumbled, barely audible, as she looked down at the ground.

"I'm afraid I don't follow,"

"Your life has been put in danger because of the things you do for my sake," she told him, her voice rising. "You almost died to help me, and I've all but ruined your relationship with Francis, and then Aylee—"

"Mary, stop," Bash interrupted her. "Mary, look at me,"

Mary kept her eyes on the ground, afraid she might start crying if she met his eyes.

She felt Bash's fingers brush against her jaw, urging her to tilt her head up. "Please look at me, Mary,"

Mary lifted her eyes to meet his. It was fully dark now—the only light the fire beside them. The flames cast flickering, dancing shadows across Bash's face.

"None of this is your fault, Mary—"

"But it is! Ever since I came back to court, so many people have been hurt because of me, and—"

"Mary, listen to me," Bash insisted, his voice firm, but gentle. "You are the queen of Scotland. You title puts you in danger—yes—but that does not mean that it is your fault. Sometimes bad things happen—I can't say that they don't. And I am so sorry about Aylee, Mary. I'm truly sorry. But don't blame yourself. You didn't stab me, you didn't kill Aylee, so it is _not your fault._"

Mary felt tears sting in her eyes and she angrily wiped her hands across her eyes.

"Mary?" Bash asked, concerned.

"I'm okay," she responded.

"Then say it,"

"Say what?"

Bash gave her a comforting, encouraging smile. "Say that it's not your fault,"

"Bash—"

"Come on, it'll make you feel better, I promise."

Mary sighed. "It's not my fault,"

"Great. Now say it like you mean it,"

"Bash!" she protested as he simply laughed.

"Come on, I'm waiting, Your Grace," he grinned.

She paused, his blue orbs staring directly into hers. Her heart jumped, and she smiled. "It's not my fault." She said earnestly.

Bash nodded. "Good. Now don't you feel better?"

"Yes, I suppose it does," she replied honestly, her sentence with a yawn.

"You should get some rest," Bash told her. "You've had a long day,"

Sitting by the warmth of the fire, wrapped up in Bash's jacket, Mary could feel just how tired she was. She nodded, yawning again.

"Come here," Bash urged.

Too tired to protest, Mary scooted closer to him, lying down on her side in the grass beside him, using his lap as a pillow. The fire suddenly seemed so much warmer, the ground suddenly very comfortable. The fire danced before Mary's eyes as her lids grew heavy and shut.

The last thing she heard was Bash murmur, "Goodnight, Mary."

**So there's chapter 2! Hope you guys liked it! I will try to update within a week again, but with Christmas coming up, we'll see how that goes =)**

**Don't forget to review, pretty please! They really mean a lot to me, and I really enjoyed reading the ones form the first chapter, so keep it up!**

**Thanks for reading! Merry Christmas and happy holidays to everybody!**

**-DaughterOfPoseidon333**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey, guys! Hope everyone is having a wonderful holiday season =)**

**Sorry that this is up a little later than I thought. I was out of town for a few days, and there were the holidays and stuff.**

**Anyway, so glad you're all enjoying the story so far. I really am blown away by how much feedback it's gotten so far, so THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!**

**I don't own Reign.**

**Enjoy!**

Chapter Three

Mary woke to the smell of meat cooking.

She blinked, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. For a second, she didn't recognize where she was—the trees, the river, it was all unfamiliar—until she remembered that yesterday she had run away from the castle…with Bash.

_Bash, _she thought, her eyes scanning the area until they landed on him. As if he could feel her gaze on him, he turned to her and smiled, his blue eyes bright in the morning light. He pulled the source of the delicious scent off of a spit above the fire. She sat up as he approached, eagerly watching the meat he held as he brought it closer to her.

"Here," he handed a chunk of seared meat to her as he sat down.

"What is it?" she asked, hesitating before she took a bite, though the smell was intoxicating and she would've liked nothing more than to devour it.

"Try it first," he told her, smirking.

She raised an eyebrow at him suspiciously. "If you don't tell me what it is, how do I know that I won't get poisoned from it?"

He laughed, then took a huge bite out of his own. He chewed and swallowed, then gave her a grin. "See? Nothing to fear. It's delicious, come on. Try it,"

Finally, the smell and her own growling stomach urged her to take a bite. She chewed slowly, letting its flavor sink into her taste buds. After swallowing, she immediately went to take another bite. She heard Bash snickering quietly beside her, but she ignored him.

"I'll take your silence as approval," he commented, amused.

"Are you going to tell me what it is now?" she asked, taking the last chunk and popping it in her mouth.

"Rabbit," he answered simply.

"Why did you think I'd be put off by that?"

"Well, to someone who is used to eating wild boar and goose, I wasn't sure how you'd take to eating a bunny." He wiped his hands off and stood.

"Well, I will have you know, Sebastian," she stood as well, and he raised an eyebrow at the use of his full name. "I once ate rat while with the nuns. Eating rabbit does not bother me in the slightest."

"Rat? Really?" he sounded surprised, if not the slightest bit confused.

She shook her head, stifling a laugh. "No. I just wanted to see how you'd react."

He stood, shocked for a moment, before he laughed loudly, tilting his head back. He came closer to her, his eyes glittering with mirth.

"And you accuse me of being a tease," he scolded.

"Well, you are," she laughed

"True," he concurred. "In my teasing manner, then, I have to admit something to you,"

"And what would that be?"

"I'm not particularly fond of the use of my full name, but I have to say that quite like that way it sounds off of your lips," he was still smiling a little, but there was an edge of seriousness to his tone.

Mary ducked her head, trying to hide the blush that had risen to her cheeks.

"Though," he added, leaning down so he was right by her ear, his breath tickling her skin. "I think if you start calling me Sebastian, I'll have to start calling you 'Your Grace' again."

"Bash it is, then," she smirked.

He grinned then stepped away, picking up her dress off the ground. He handed it to her, their fingers brushing for a fraction of a second, but it was enough to send sparks through her veins.

"It's dry," Bash told her. "I'll turn around. Just let me know when you need help lacing it back up."

He turned around and Mary, with more than a little reluctance, took of his jacket. Instantaneously she missed the weight of the warm leather on her shoulders, missed the smell of pine and sandalwood that came with the fabric. She stepped into her dress and pulled it up over her arms and shoulders.

"Bash," she said, using his name to beckon him over.

Because his footsteps were so soundless, she scarcely knew he was behind her till she felt his fingers tugging lightly at the laces at the back of her dress. She felt his breath against the back of her neck, and it sent chills—though not unpleasant ones—down her spine. When he was done, she handed him back his jacket and he pulled it over his white shirt. As he started putting out the fire, she quickly took all of her hair and put it into one large braid down her back. She gathered up her possessions then followed Bash as he led them out of the clearing they'd spent the night in.

"How far is the village?" she asked him once they were on the road.

"Not too far. We'll be there before midday." He replied.

They spent most of the trip in silence. Unlike with Francis, where she would've felt the need, the obligation to say something, Bash was perfectly okay with the quiet. He asked her once in a while to see how she was doing, but that was about it. Only when they started nearing the town did they talk more.

"Where are we going?" she asked as Bash veered of the road and she had no choice but to follow him onto a lesser used path that wound through the trees.

"There are houses in almost every village under French rule where people like you and I can stay. Mostly royals who don't want to stay directly in town use these houses. They're safer, more discreet. Plus, only a select few know about them, so we'll be harder to find for the time being." He replied, taking her hand and leading her through the overgrown path.

"You really think they'll have sent people this far to look for us?"

"Oh, yes. If they found our horses—which I'm betting they did—their first move would be to check the villages closest to the castle, as they'd know we're short on supplies."

"Is this the closest village?"

He thought about that for a moment. "No…I believe there's one a couple miles closer to the castle. They'll check that one first, then make their way here. But we'll have a few days. No doubt my father is growing increasingly more impatient with each hour that we're gone. He'll want to send out less and less men each day. I'm sure Francis isn't helping matters either."

Mary couldn't bring herself to respond as she thought about Francis—Francis, was probably sick with worry over her. She couldn't help the pang of guilt that stabbed through her heart. And not just over Francis. Her friends were no doubt worried about her as well, probably waiting for her to send word. Then there was the alliance, her country to think about. It was all very overwhelming, and she suddenly felt as though she could breathe. She stumbled, gasping, and Bash immediately caught her, his hands steadying her.

"Mary? Mary, what is it?" he asked firmly, concern creating an edge to his voice.

"Do you—Do you think I made the right decision in leaving?" she asked, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

He studied her for a moment, his blue eyes scanning her features. Finally, he spoke, his voice quiet, "Only you can answer that."

**So there's chapter 3 for you guys! hope you liked it =) I know it was a little shorter than the other chapters, but the next two chapters will be longer, and in those next two chapters, we'll be getting into that deeper feeling stuff =) **

** I will—hopefully—update within a week, but if I don't, just know it's on the way!**

** Please review, it really means a lot to me! They have been so wonderful to read so far, so keep at it!**

** Thanks for reading!**

** -DaughterOfPosiedon333**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey, everybody! Hope everyone had a good New Year =)**

**And I'm just gonna say that the support has been amazing so far! The follows and favorites are great, and the wonderful reviews are even better! So big thank you to everybody!**

**I don't own Reign.**

**Enjoy!**

Chapter Four

Bash held his sword at the ready as he and Mary slowly entered the small house. There was enough light filtering in from the single window to allow him to see. Once he determined that it was safe to go in all the way, he nodded to Mary, who stood behind him. She seemed to relax a bit once they were inside. He could understand her tension, though. She's been practically forced away from the French court due to an awful prophecy that could have been true or not; she'd seen one of her best friends die just two days before; and on top of it all, they were hungry and tired and possibly being chased by pagans or other bandits. All in all, it had been a very stressful couple of days.

"Why don't you sit down for a bit," he told her as he sheathed his sword.

Mary, stubborn as ever, shook her head. "No. we should get a fire started. I saw some firewood by the side of the house as we were coming in—"

"Mary," he said softly, and she broke off. "It's fine. Sit. Rest. I think we have some bread left—you can eat that. _I'll _get the firewood."

She looked like she was about to argue further, but instead, she simply sighed in resignation and went to sit down on the bed that was against the far wall. He had to stifle a laugh when she practically pouted, her lower lip jutting out just a hint.

"I'll be right back," he promised. "Don't get into any trouble,"

"Yes, because there is _so_ much for me to get in trouble for here," she joked.

Then he did laugh, letting out a low chuckle at her sarcastic response. She smiled, her eyes lighting up at his amusement. Then she started laughing and the sound was like music to his ears. He hadn't heard her laugh in quite some time. Granted, he hadn't really been around her enough lately to hear her laugh, but still, it was nice to see her happy. After a minute, her laughter ceased, but her smile didn't fade.

"Okay, now I _am _going to go get firewood," he announced, heading for the door. "Stay here."

Mary nodded in agreement and pulled out what little bread they had left as he headed back outside. Thinking about food, Bash felt his stomach grumble in protest. They were extremely low on supplies, and would probably have to go into town to stock up on more. He sighed, thinking about how much trouble they'd already had since leaving the castle. It could've been worse so far, but it hadn't exactly been easy either. Pushing aside his troubling thoughts, Bash walked alongside of the house, eyes scanning the trees around them, ears sharp for any sound. He found the firewood easy enough and gathered as much as he could in his arms before heading back around the house and inside.

Neither of them spoke as he piled the wood into the fireplace and started the fire itself with tinder he'd found in a basket beside the fireplace. Without words to distract him, he found himself watching her instead. Even after traveling for two days and having taken a dunk in the river the day before, she was still beautiful. As she walked over to stand in the sunlight coming in from the window—the light green tinged from filtering through the trees—the beams caught her hair, braided down her back, making it shine. Her chocolaty brown eyes danced around, taking in their current leaving quarters.

He felt his mouth quirk up into a little smile at the wonder and curiosity on her face. That expression looked familiar to him, and he remembered it from her first day back at the castle. As he'd watched her emerge onto the grounds, watched her as she took in the crowd watching _her, _he remembered the awe, the amazement that had been on her face then. That awe had colored her features at his half-sister's wedding when feathers had fallen from the ceiling. It was the same look she had now, at being in another new, unfamiliar place.

He felt warmth spread through him—the same warmth that seemed to envelop him whenever she was around him. She was like the sun—absolutely _brilliant _wherever she went. It left _him _in awe how quickly he'd fallen for her dark hair, her wondering eyes, her gentle curves, her full lips—the same lips he longed to kiss every hour of every day. The effect she had on him had been instantaneous. The second he saw her that first day back at court, the minute her eyes fell on him as she waited for Francis, he'd fallen completely under her spell. And it wasn't just her beauty. It was her intelligence, her playfulness, her courage and stubbornness and loyalty and kind and caring heart…the list went on and on.

Mary turned to him, her mouth pulling up into a soft smile. And there it was again, that smile that made his heart pound and made it hard to think.

"What?" she asked upon seeing that he was still staring at her.

He blinked, then shook his head slowly, a smile of his own emerging. "Nothing,"

She looked a little skeptical, but didn't press. He turned his attention back to the flames in front of him, knowing that if he voiced his thoughts, he'd surely be damned. This was his brother's fiancé after all. Almost his brother's wife. He had no right to have the thoughts he did about her. And yet, those thoughts invaded his mind every day, every night. Being away from her the past couple weeks hadn't helped matters either. Instead of helping him to forget about her, it only made him long for her more, made the ache in his heart grow.

Not for the first time, he considered his mother's offer to be legitimized. It was probably treason just thinking about it. Even though he wanted to be with Mary, in every sense of the word, he knew that he could never take the throne away from Francis. Even though Henry and his mother would be accepting of it, Catherine would probably poison him in his sleep if he did so. Mary would question it, would question him. And the prospect of legitimization was what had made him run away in the first place. _But you ran away with Mary, _a little voice in the back of his mind reminded him. Suppressing a sigh, he pushed away any thoughts of being legitimized. He was a bastard, and that was that.

"We're running low on supplies," he announced, standing up.

He turned to see Mary on the other side of the room. She looked at him when he spoke.

"Yes, I agree," she replied. "Are we going to go into town then?"

Bash pondered the 'we' part of her question. If he did take her with him into town, she'd be safer, being with him to protect her, but she would also have a greater chance of being recognized. Even if they didn't know _exactly _who she was, they'd know her to be royalty by her clothes, the way she walked. On the other hand, if he went alone, he'd have an easier time getting what they needed, but he'd be leaving her here alone to fend for herself. Neither were particularly good options.

"Bash?" Mary urged.

He hesitated a moment longer. "I'm not sure you should come with me,"

Puzzlement crossed over her features. "Why?"

"In town people might recognize you. There's a danger in that. Someone could contact the castle, or they might even attack us. It's risky, but—"

"But so is leaving me here alone." She finished for him. "I understand."

"It's up to you," he told her.

She paused, weighing the options. After a moment of silence, she met his eyes.

"I'll stay here. I can take care of myself." She raised her head a little higher as she spoke, making her voice firm.

Bash couldn't help but feel admiration for her bravery. Then, he remembered, he'd heard that _she _had been the one to stab the Count, that wretched Italian that had tried to rape her. This was the girl who'd been about to venture into the woods to retrieve her dog, the girl who had been more concerned about _him,_ killing someone, than for her own safety when the pagans marked her. Her confidence made him feel a little better about leaving her here for a little bit on her own.

"Okay." He nodded.

"Here," she said, pulling her bag around and reaching inside to retrieve several necklaces laced with pearls and precious jewels. "You can trade these for what we need, right?"

"Yes," he said, raising an eyebrow in surprise, tucking away the jewels in the pouch on his belt. "You're sure?"

"I have plenty of jewelry, Bash. I think I can part with these for the sake of some much more needed supplies," she said teasingly.

"No, I meant about staying here. If anyone were to…if something were to happen to you..." he trailed off, clenching his jaw to keep himself from saying anything further.

Her features softened, and she reached out to grab his hands comfortingly. "I'll be okay, Bash. I can take care of myself." She repeated.

"I do not doubt that. I don't doubt you, for that matter," he told her. His eyes caught on their touching hands and the bandage around her injured hand. Suddenly, a small confession didn't sound too bad. "It's just that…if anything, anything at all, were to happen to you, I would never forgive myself."

Mary's mouth fell open just the slightest at his honest words. Her hands fell slack in his, and reluctantly he let them drop out of his own.

"Here," Bash said, breaking their silence, and reached down to grab his dagger out of his belt. "Take this. I'll feel a little better, at least, if you have this."

She took the dagger and turned it around in her hands.

"I shouldn't be gone too long. I'll be back as soon as possible. Mary," his voice dropped and he reached out and gently cupped her face in his hands. "Promise me you'll be careful."

He met her eyes with his own, relishing the smoothness of her skin under his own, rough, calloused hands. She seemed mildly surprised at his touch, but she didn't pull away.

"I promise." She said quietly.

He let his hands drop. Then, without another word, he turned towards the door. He turned at the last second to find her watching after him. Tearing his gaze away, he continued out the door, shutting it quietly behind him.

-:-::-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Once Bash had left, Mary forced herself into action, trying to forget that just moments ago, their faces had been inches from one another, his hands gently holding her face in between them. She grabbed the single wooden chair that sat in the corner of the room and propped it up against the door handle, hoping that would brace the door long enough for her to ready herself if anyone tried to break in. She tried getting the fire to burn lower in an attempt to lessen the smoke pouring out of the chimney.

After doing all that she could, she went and sat down on the bed. She picked the dagger up off the blankets, weighing it in her hands. _If anything, anything at all, were to happen to you, I would never forgive myself. _Bash's words replayed in her head. Mary knew that Bash had feelings for her. Strong feelings, even. And yet, he still managed to surprise her with his open and honest confessions. She bit her lip as she thought about Bash. She couldn't deny that she felt something for him as well. She felt safe with him, secure. She could be honest with him, talk to him about anything and he would listen. His company soothed her, and she felt a pang in her heart as she thought about the weeks staying away from him all to respect Francis' wish. She didn't know exactly _what _that all added up to. It was definitely more than just a simple like for him. But did she love him? And even if she did, how was that possible? How could she love Francis so dearly, yet feel almost, if not just as strongly for Bash?

She lay back, folding her hands over her stomach, the dagger still in one hand. She tried clearing her head, banishing away thoughts of Bash and those ridiculous blue eyes that seemed to pull her in the second she met them with her own. She didn't know how long she lay there, trying not to let her travel weary body pull her into the depths of sleep. She looked out the window, wondering what was taking Bash so long. Through the glass panes orange light shone through, telling her that the sun was beginning to set. Just as she was about to start pacing the room in impatience, she heard movement at the door.

"Finally," she muttered, heading towards the door, carefully tucking the dagger in her belt. "Bash, what took you so long?"

She moved the chair away from the door, and slowly opened it. Unfortunately, her own impatience had gotten the best of her, and she hadn't even bothered to check who was at the door before opening it. She gasped as a man, bigger than Bash, pushed his way into the small house. Somehow, she managed to pull the dagger out as he turned towards her. He was wearing a hood, but upon seeing her, he pushed the fabric away from his face. He scrutinized her for a moment, dark eyes taking in her face, her clothes, the weapon in her hand. Then, his face broke into a grin, revealing dirty teeth and filling Mary with a sense of dread.

"You're the broad from the woods," he said, his voice scratchy almost as if he hadn't used it in a while.

For the first time, Mary noticed his quiver of arrows, the bow slung across his back. The arrows' feathers were brown…just like the ones that had been fired at her and Bash in the woods.

"You," she accused, her voice steadier than she thought it would be. "You're the one who attacked us."

"Indeed. Speaking of 'us'…where's your friend? Leave you here all by yourself did he?" he took a step farther into the room, and Mary took a step back, holding her dagger level.

"He'll be back soon." She lied. She didn't know when Bash would be back, but she desperately hoped it _would _be soon. "You should go, before he gets back. He won't take kindly to you threatening me."

"Is that so?" if possible, the man's smile turned even more malicious. "Well, I guess it's a good thing, then, that I had my partners keep him occupied."

Mary swallowed. If Bash was fighting off a couple other men, she was left her to fend for herself. She knew she had told Bash that she could take care of herself, but she didn't know how long she'd last if this brutish man decided to attack her. He was twice her size, and no doubt, a much more experienced fighter.

"Why don't you come here, pretty girl," he hissed, taking another step closer.

"Stay back!" Mary shouted as loud as she could, hoping, desperately, that wherever Bash was, maybe he could hear her. "I know people, powerful people, and if you hurt me, they will hunt you down and kill you without an ounce of remorse. If you leave now, no one will ever have to know of this and we'll leave you be."

"Mm, tempting," he growled. "But I think I'll take my chances,"

This time when he took a step, the man lunged at her. She managed to sidestep, trying to slash at him with her dagger. He reached for her, his meaty hands grabbing for her throat, but she ducked under his reach, kicking out at him, connecting her foot with his shin. He groaned, but the blow only served to make him angrier. They danced around each other for a bit longer, his desperate attempts to grab her thwarted by her size and speed. The one thing about him being bigger than her—he was slower. But soon, he would tire of her game and he would go straight to killing her.

Mary darted away from him again, but this time, he seemed to anticipate where she would go, and he caught her wrist—the same wrist that held the dagger, and her weapon clattered to the floor as she lost her grip on it. He growled in triumph, yanking her hard against him, her back to his chest.

"Thought you could keep that up forever, did you?" he panted, his breath hot and heavy in her ear. He yanked her head back by her hair, and she gasped in pain. "Now I'm going to kill you…nice and slow."

From his belt, he produced his own knife—a dagger that curved like a claw. He drew the weapon across her skin, sending chills coursing through her body. The pressure was enough to make her pulse race and her skin crawl, but not hard enough that he broke the skin. She struggled against him, trying to pull her wrist away from him, but his grip was like steel. There was no way she would win against him by struggling. So she tried something else.

"Bash!" she screamed as loud as she could. "Bash, help! Bash!"

"Quiet!" the man growled.

"Bash!"

"I said _shut up_!" he shouted.

He tried to cover her mouth up with the hand that held his knife. As his fingers started closing over her mouth, she bit down hard on the closest finger. He screamed, almost louder than she had, and she felt a warm, metallic tasting liquid coat her tongue. Blood. With him distracted, she took her chance and wrenched free of her grip. Mary scooped her dagger up off the ground and spun around to see the man charging at her, anger and hate in his eyes. She raised her weapon, sinking the blade into his side when he got close.

She gasped, stumbling away from him, as he clutched at his side. Blood, like liquid rubies, pooled in between his fingers. Her groaned, breathing hard, glaring up at her. He started to stumble to his feet, and she fumbled backwards for the door. When she bumped into something solid, but clearly another person, she screamed, thinking it was another bandit. She turned, raising the dagger, ready to stab down, but a hand, much gentler, held her wrist.

"Bash," she breathed as she found his eyes, which were full of concern and fear, though she doubted he was scared for himself.

"Mary," he gasped back, his breathing just as heavy as hers. His eyes caught on the man struggling before them, and he gently pulled her behind him.

Bash approached the man till his sword touched the man's throat.

"Up. Now." Bash said firmly. "_Now!_"

The man finally managed to pull himself to his feet, his side still bleeding. His injured side seemed to make him sag to one side, but that didn't make him any less scary looking. As Bash started circling with the man, Mary followed behind Bash, and they ended up fully turned around so the man was facing the door.

"Go," Bash demanded. "Stay here, Mary."

It didn't take a genius to guess what Bash was going to do. Minutes later, after straining her ears for any sound, she heard the slice of Bash's sword against flesh and the thump of a body falling to the ground. He came back in a little later, and she assumed, by the dirt and blood on his hands, that he'd been disposing of the body. He dropped some bags on the floor by the door, which most likely held their supplies, then came over to her.

Mary hadn't realized she'd been trembling until his steady hands stilled hers. He pulled the scarlet dipped dagger from her hands, wiped it off with his shirt, then tucked it back into his belt. Mary looked down at her blood stained hands, refusing to meet his eyes for fear that she would break down.

"Mary," he whispered.

When she didn't answer, he simply pulled her into his arms instead. His arms wrapped around her as if he could shield her from the world using only his body. She clutched at his shirt, hands clenching into fists around the thin fabric. She felt a few tears slip down her cheeks, but she didn't even bother wiping them away.

"I'm so sorry, Mary. So sorry," he murmured.

He pulled back from her, tilting her face up towards his, blue eyes scanning her features.

"Mary?" he said, posing her name as a question.

"I'm alright," she mumbled, but it didn't even sound convincing to her own ears.

"It's okay if you're not, you know." He gave her a comforting smile. "I _am _sorry, Mary. This is my fault. I should have known they were tracking us."

"Tracking us?"

"Yes. All the way from the river. I didn't think they'd follow us across, but it seems they didn't like us escaping in the first place."

"How many did you have to fight?" she asked.

"There were only two others. They're gone now though."

"You mean they're dead."

Bash was silent for a moment. "I did what I had to."

"I'm not mad," she amended. "I'm just glad you're okay."

"I'm fine, Mary. But you're not," he said softly. "Why don't we go get you cleaned up? I picked up some extra clothes for you, as well, so you change out of that dress."

"You'll have to help me out of it again, then. Who knows, a little more practice and you could become one of my ladies," she smirked.

He laughed. "Maybe you're a little better than I thought, if you can joke like that. Come on,"

He led her outside to a well that was on the opposite side of the house. It was night now, but the moon, which was nearly full, provided enough light for them to see by. As Bash filled a bucket with clean water, Mary listened to the crickets chirping, the soft breeze traveling in between the trees, trying not to think about the coppery scent of blood in her nose. Bash helped her to wash the blood off of her, then helped her out her dress once again so they could wash that. As Bash washed off his own hands, Mary took her braid out and ran some water over her hair and attempted to run her fingers through it.

Once they were mostly clean, they headed back inside. Bash gave her the new clothes he'd gotten, and turned around to add wood to the fire so she could change. She dressed quickly. Luckily, the more peasant-style dress was something she was used to, as she had worn dresses like it at the convent.

"Here," Bash said, handing her some fresh bread and cheese.

"You should eat something, too. You haven't eaten all day," She reasoned.

"I'll be fine," he replied off-handedly. "I should get this blood cleaned up first."

"Bash, please, eat something," she urged.

He looked like he was about to protest again, but something on her face must've made him change his mind. Out of one of the bags, he pulled out some bread and cheese of his own. They ate in silence, as both of them had their mouths too full to bother speaking.

"Why don't you rest," he said quietly when they were done.

Mary, too tired to argue, lay down on the small bed. She watched as he worked to clean up the small pool of blood on the floor. Minutes passed before she found the energy to speak.

"Thank you," she mumbled.

Bash threw the dirty rags in the fire then turned to her. "For what?"

"Saving me," she replied sleepily.

Bash smiled at her half-asleep state. Before responding, he gathered up some extra blankets from the trunk at the foot of the bed and created a make-shift bed for himself. She was too tired to even argue about him sleeping on the hard floor. He took of his jacket and his belt and settled in. He looked up at her, his blue eyes darker in the firelight that illuminated the room. She found that she couldn't tear her gaze away from his, and her heart thumped unevenly.

"You're welcome," he whispered at last. "Though, I'd say you were doing a fairly good job on your own."

She gave a little laugh, though she rubbed at her hands, trying to erase blood that was no longer there. First the Italian, then Aylee's blood, now this man. Two of those three people had been trying to harm her, but it still didn't make it any better.

"I am so sorry, Mary. I was trying to get to you…I heard you scream and I—"

"Please don't blame yourself. It wasn't your fault." She said as firmly as she could. "You have done so much for me already. And not just today, either. But ever since I returned to court you've always been there for me. And I…." she trailed off with a yawn and felt her eyes start to close.

She could almost hear Bash smile.

"And I am just so…so grateful. I'm really glad that I have you in my life, Bash. No matter what Francis said…I care about you a-and…" she didn't finish before sleep pulled her under.

She wasn't sure if what happened next was a dream or reality, but she swore she felt Bash's lips against the top of her head. She swore she heard him say, "I care about you as well. More than you'll ever know". After those words, though, she definitely did dream. She dreamt of blood and blue eyes, blue eyes that did not belong to Francis.

**So there's chapter 4! Nice long chapter for you guys, hope you liked it =)**

**Will try really hard to update within a week, but if I don't, just know that chapter is on its way.**

**Please review! They have all been so wonderful so far, so keep it up! I really appreciate the feedback, and they just make me smile so much =)**

**Thanks for reading!**

**-DaughterOfPoseidon333**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey, guys, sorry this is kind of late. I had finals this week, and the last couple weeks have been kind of hectic. But, the good thing about having to wait this long, it's another long chapter and all the good stuff will happen =)**

**But I seriously can't thank you guys enough for all the amazing support on this story! It's truly wonderful, so thank you! **

**And are you guys just as proud as I am that Reign won a PCA for best new show? =) **

**And soon, very soon, we are off hiatus! Ah, so much to be excited about =)**

**I don't own Reign, or any song lyrics.**

**Enjoy!**

**P.S. The song is called **_**Sinners **_**by Lauren Aquilina. It's really amazing, and I think it's the perfect Mash song I've found so far, so check it out =)**

Chapter 5

-:-:-

_The rules say our emotions don't comply_

_But we'll defy the rules until we die_

_So let's be sinners to be saints_

_And let's be winners by mistake_

_The world may disapprove_

_But my world is only you_

_And if we're sinners then it feels like heaven to me_

-:-:-

_Mary was riding away from the castle, her horse flying down the road as Francis screamed after her, for her. She didn't look back, but instead kept riding. She hadn't even made it far enough away so that she could no longer see the castle in the distance when the scenery around her shifted. Suddenly, she was looking at the plains of her homeland. It was just as she'd remembered it, except for the fact that Scotland was burning. Flames covered the land, tendrils of orange and yellow shooting up into the sky._

_She brought her horse to a halt and looked behind her. She could still see the French court; Francis' cries still filled the air. She looked back in front of her, where she could see her homeland on fire and Bash…_

_ "It's your decision, Mary." He said, and though he was much farther ahead of her, she could hear his voice clearly as if he was right beside her._

_ "Mary!" Francis yelled from behind her._

_ "Your decision," Bash's voice echoed._

_ Torn, she looked around her. Scotland….Scotland burning…burning…_

Mary gasped, her eyelids fluttering open. _It was just a dream, _she told herself as she sat up in bed.

"Mary?" Bash's voice sounded, and she looked over to see him by the fire. Seeing the flames, all Mary could think about was the flames in her dream, the fire that blazed all over her country. Bash had paused in his work of adding wood to the fire and was watching her with a look of concern.

"I'm fine," she reassured him, noticing how he relaxed a little. "Just a bad dream, is all."

He nodded and didn't push, didn't ask her to share what her dream had been about. He'd always been so respectful of her privacy, and right now, she appreciated that fact very much. The dream, though that's all it was—a dream—it bothered her. As she looked at Bash, she thought about how he'd acted in her dream. He hadn't been pushing her one way or the other, but simply kept telling her that it was her choice—her choice to stay on the run or return to the castle; the choice she'd been burdened with since leaving. Francis had been calling out for her, pulling her heart back towards court. Mary nearly screamed in frustration.

"You're sure you're all right?" Bash asked as he handed her his wineskin. She took it gratefully and before she knew it, she'd downed at least a third of the water, not realizing how thirsty she'd been.

"Really, I'm fine," she said, trying for a smile, but it felt a little forced, and by his little smirk, she knew that Bash could tell it wasn't genuine as well.

"Here," Bash said, digging some dried meat and a chunk of bread out and handing them to her. "Eat something. It'll help,"

"Help with my bad dream?" she asked with a smile, raising an eyebrow at him.

He shrugged, grinning. "Clearly I'm not Nostradamus,"

After that, they ate in silence. Mary couldn't help but think about her dream, the choice she had yet to make. The past few days, with all the trouble she and Bash encountered so far, she hadn't really had time to think on what leaving meant, but now, she had all the time in the world to think. On one hand, she felt the pull to return to court. She love Francis, she wanted to marry him, but she didn't want him to die because of that. And Francis wasn't the only thing that was pulling her back. More important than her own feelings was Scotland. She was risking the safety of her people, her kinsmen, her country, by abandoning the alliance this way.

Setting all that aside, she also felt a pull, just as strong, to stay on the run. She was breaking Francis' heart by doing so, but at least he would live a full, happy life this way. Alliances were constantly shifting anyway, so it wouldn't be impossible for her to find an alliance for Scotland even if she was on the run. And looking over at Bash, she figured there were worse people she could be fleeing with. She couldn't help but think of the night before, the kiss on top of the head he'd given her—which may or may not have happened. Her heart fluttered in her chest, at the possibility that it had happened.

She shook her head, wondering where these feelings came from. She loved Francis, and yet…and yet being around Bash gave her similar feelings, but ones that were unique for him and him alone. She realized, though she'd been a little inebriated, they were the same feelings that had possessed her to kiss him by the lake, the same feelings that made her unable to pull away when he'd kissed her back. As she watched Bash, she pushed all thoughts of Francis to the back of her mind, pushed away all worries she had about the alliance and about Scotland, and allowed herself to look—_really _look—at him.

She took in his slightly disheveled brown hair, and wondered what it would feel like under her fingertips. The shadow of stubble across his face—she remembered the course feel of it against her skin when they'd kissed. She watched his crystal blue eyes and thought about what it felt like when he stared directly into her eyes with his own—it felt like he could see right into her soul, see all her desires and dreams, all the love and pain within. She observed his hands as they worked with his dagger to slice off bits of bread and meat for himself. His hands were so strong and calloused compared to Francis' softer, less-rough hands. These were the same hands that immediately comforted her whenever they came in contact with her body, the same hands that sent sparks flying through her veins. Those hands, though rough, had always been gentle with her.

These thoughts caused a dull ache to grow in her heart. With Francis, she had fallen quickly, had been devoured by the fire she felt for him. But with Bash…with Bash, it was a slow burn, like the coals in the fireplace, which ignited her entire being and made her feel warm from head to toe. It was a constant ache, a constant want, a constant _need, _for him. And though she wasn't always conscious of it, it sat in the back of her mind, in the back of her heart, every day and every night.She knew she shouldn't be thinking these things. These feelings that were sitting in the pit of her stomach, growing warmer the more she looked at him, they were forbidden. Whatever they had between them was forbidden. And yet, that only seemed to make her want to explore those feeling further. What she'd gotten so far were sparks, embers that were slowly burning, and she was waiting for the inferno to consume her.

And as she looked at his stained, ripped shirt, she thought about a different shirt of his, torn and stained with blood. She remembered the fear that had gripped her upon seeing him injured, bleeding, sweating, struggling to take a breath. She remembered thinking that even though she hadn't known him long, to lose him would be to lose a part of herself. Since her return to court, he had somehow wedged his way into her life—and her heart. It was like he'd been by her side her entire life.

That injury had been weeks ago. If she were to lose him now…she couldn't even bear to finish the thought. It would no doubt crush her. If she was to lose him, she would lose her sanity—he kept her grounded, kept her steady; he was the keystone when all of her walls felt like crumbling down. And yet, though she could barely stand the thought of losing him, she had allowed him to run away with her anyway, even though it would surely damn him. She struggled to remember how exactly they had ended up riding out together in the first place—till she remembered that he had been in the stables, preparing to leave himself, when they'd stumbled into each other.

"Bash?" she asked, embarrassed at the fact that her voice sounded huskier than usual. He didn't say anything, but looked up at her in acknowledgement that he'd heard her. "I was just wondering—"

Suddenly, Bash whipped his head towards the door, and Mary broke off mid-sentence. He tilted his head just the slightest, as if he was listening for something. He stood and without even looking at her, wordlessly handed the dagger he'd just been using to her.

"Stay here, I'll be right back." He told her, turning to look at her.

She nodded. "What is it?"

"I don't know yet. Stay here," he repeated, then headed quietly out the door.

Mary waited for what felt like forever. She sat on the bed, back ramrod straight, dagger gripped in her hand. She couldn't help but think of last night when the bandits' attacked and how they were all out in the woods somewhere, dead. Chills coursed through her body, and she could almost feel the blood on her hands again. When there was a knock on the door, Mary jumped a little, wariness refusing to move her muscles.

"Mary, it's me," Bash's voice came from behind the door.

She released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Mary stood and opened the door, stepping aside to allow Bash to enter. He was carrying a bucket of water with him, which, she assumed, he had gotten from the well back behind the house. He sloshed it slowly onto the fire, dousing the flames.

"Bash, what's going on?" she asked, knitting her hands together in front of her.

"Soldiers," he replied simply, packing their supplies together in one of the bags.

"Soldiers?" she echoed back. "French soldiers?"

"Yes. Two dozen at least. A lot more soldiers than it takes for a simple search party,"

"You mean you think they know we're here? How?"

Bash sighed, looking slightly guilty. "Someone in town must have recognized me yesterday. I don't know who it could've been, but they must have sent word to the castle."

"It's not your fault, Bash," she said softly.

He looked up at her, his blue eyes scanning her face. And though he was just looking at her, she felt her heart skip a beat. He seemed to compose himself then, and he slung the leather bag across his back like a quiver.

"We have to go, before they search the woods," he informed her. "If we double-back along the road, we can skirt around the soldiers and head over to the next town."

Mary nodded.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Yes,"

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

They'd been walking for close to an hour, trekking through the woods, but close enough to the forest's edge so they could still see the road. So far they hadn't run into any soldiers, bandits, pagans, or any trouble at all, really. Bash had been walking the whole time with his sword in hand, his eyes scanning the path ahead of them, but Mary could see the tension falling from his body as they got farther and farther away from their little hideaway cottage.

"You were asking me something," Bash started out of the blue, pushing through several low-hanging branches and holding them aside for her. "before we left, you were about to ask me something—what was it?"

"I was just curious as to what you were doing in the stables the day we left," she replied. "It seemed as if you were preparing to leave yourself and I was simply curious as to where you were headed,"

Bash was silent for a moment, and as she took in his expression, he seemed to be contemplating something, his eyebrows pulled broodingly together.

"I _was _leaving," he started slowly, not looking back at her. "I didn't know that you were planning on running away as well…I actually didn't expect it to be discovered that I was gone until I was far away from Court—"

"So you were just going to flee without a farewell?" she interrupted, stopping in the middle of the path so he had no choice but to turn around and look at her. She couldn't fathom her sudden anger, but the thought of him leaving without saying goodbye to her upset her.

"Yes," Bash affirmed, looking mildly ashamed.

"Why?" she demanded.

"The less people knew the better. Especially considering the circumstances under which I was leaving."

"And what would those circumstances would those be, exactly?"

He didn't answer and glanced down at the ground. Mary took his hands in her own and he looked back up in surprise.

"Bash, please. Tell me," she pressed.

He exhaled slowly. "You must promise not to tell another soul,"

Though confused by his request, she nodded in acceptance. "Yes, of course. I swear,"

He took a deep breath. "Before Count Vincent took control of the castle, my mother told me that for weeks before the siege she had been writing letters—writing letters in hopes of having me legitimized."

Mary felt her jaw drop the slightest. _Legitimized_. His mother made plans to have him _legitimized_. Mary felt herself being sucked into a daydream where Bash was the future king of France instead of Francis. She imagined on her wedding, dressed in white, she would walk into the room and see Bash standing there instead of Francis. Bash would be smiling at her, smiling because she looked so beautiful, Bash smiling because he loved her and couldn't wait to rule both of their countries together, side by side. It would be Bash to bed her on the night of their wedding. It would be his mouth on hers, his lips against her skin. She would call out his name, not Francis'—Mary shook her head, knowing that such a thing was impossible. So why did she feel such a strong ache for that dream?

Mary was jolted back into reality when Bash started speaking again.

"I told my mother I had no desire to be legitimized—I could never take the crown from Francis. Besides, Catherine would sooner swallow a dozen blades before seeing me on the throne. Once England was suddenly on the line, though, we were at risk of being found out. And Catherine _did _find out. Though I had no part in it—had no intention of _being _a part of it—that would mean nothing if my father found out. My mother fled, and so did I." he finished quietly.

Mary didn't know what to say. What Diane had done was extremely risky and it had put both her and Bash in danger. It didn't take a genius to figure out that if the king found out, no matter his feelings for the two of them, they would surely be beheaded for such a treasonous act.

"Bash—"

Bash held up a hand to cut her off. "You don't have to say anything, Mary. It's alright. But now you know." He sighed and ran a hand down his face. "What my mother did was incredibly foolish. There's no excuse for her motives. I accepted a long time ago that I would never be anything but the bastard son of the king."

"You shouldn't think so low of yourself," she murmured, casting her eyes down.

Bash touched her chin with his fingertips, urging her to tilt her head back up. "It's the truth, Mary."

"Yes, but that shouldn't be the only thing to define you," she argued. "You're so much more than just a bastard. You're a good man with a good heart. You're my friend. More than that, you're someone I care very deeply about." she finished quietly, gauging his reaction.

His eyebrows rose the slightest, which gave the only indication to his surprise.

"Come, I want to show you something," he said softly.

He started walking along the path once again and Mary had no choice but to follow. They walked a little farther until they broke through the tree line and came upon a small field. Bash stopped her and pointed over at the road.

"Do you see where the road splits there?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied, confused as to why he was pointing it out.

"If we take the road that diverges off to the right that will take us over to the next town" he explained. "If we continue straight along the road…that will take us back to the castle. It's your decision, Mary."

Mary let his words sink in. _It's your decision. _Suddenly, she was reminded of her dream. He'd said those same words in her dream as she tried to decide between staying on the run and returning to court. It felt harder to breathe as she was faced with that same decision right now. She looked at the road, the way it split. Her heart felt like it was splitting the same way. Part of her was urging her to go straight, go back to Francis and the castle and the alliance. That road, in a metaphorical sense, would be returning her to Scotland. Her duties lay down that road. But then there was the road that went to the right, the road that went off course, just like her.

She turned and looked at Bash, feeling slightly helpless. "Why are you showing this to me?"

"I'm showing this to you so you can decide," he answered vaguely.

"Decide what?"

He didn't answer. And he didn't need to. Because right then, Mary realized that the decision wasn't about Scotland. If it _was _about returning to her queenly duties, the decision would be straightforward—she would return to court. The French alliance was what was best for Scotland, she couldn't deny that. But this wasn't about Scotland. No, this decision was about where her heart lay—this was a decision between Francis and Bash.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Bash stood by Mary's side, watching her decision tear her apart. It caused him pain to see her like this, struggling between all the choices to make. When she'd told him that she cared for him deeply, he couldn't help the joy that had flooded his veins. But it had also made him realize that it was time for her to decide. At last, Mary turned to look at him, her expression pained, but her eyes were clear. Somehow, he knew—he _knew—_what she was going to say, but it didn't prepare him in the slightest.

"I—" she swallowed, taking in an unsteady breath. "I have to go back."

Bash's heart plummeted to the ground, but he simply nodded. He knew his hope that she would stay on the run had been futile. She was a queen. She had to lay her duties before her heart. His eyes fell from her face and he took an involuntary step back.

"No, Bash, wait," she pleaded, her voice shaky. "Let me explain myself. I know the decision you're asking me to make, but don't think that this is me choosing Francis over you."

She paused, as if waiting for him to say something. In truth, he probably wouldn't have been able to say anything if he tried. So he waited for her to continue.

"I _do _care about Francis," she started again. "But I care about him too much to doom him to a fate that cannot be changed. If what Nostradamus predicted is true, I can't marry Francis. I won't have his blood on my hands."

"It wouldn't be your fault, Mary," he told her.

"It doesn't matter. I need to return. I need to return for my country. France is the best thing for Scotland right now, and I can't let my people down."

Bash nodded. "I'll take you back to the castle."

"I couldn't ask you to do that," she whispered. "If the king finds out about your mother's plans you could be killed. I'm already going to lose Francis; I can't lose you, too."

"And I can't let you wander around in the woods alone." He argued.

He didn't want to tell her that he was taking her back because he couldn't bear to part with her, not after all that they'd been through the past few days. He knew he probably shouldn't go back with her. She was right about him being in danger, but he couldn't leave her. Not just because she would be in peril in the woods all by herself, especially on foot, but also because his heart refused to let her go.

Mary belonged to his brother, always would. Even if she didn't belong to Francis due to love, there was still the alliance. Bash couldn't have her. He tried so hard to push his feelings away, to bury them deep inside of himself where he couldn't possibly dig them out again. But it was damn near impossible to forget about her when she was in his every thought and every dream. He _shouldn't_ want her, he shouldn't, because she wasn't his to hold...and yet, every time he saw her face, he would forget momentarily that she was Francis' and that he had no right to think about her as otherwise.

Her lips, that kiss, it haunted him. Every minute he craved more—craved more of her soft lips, the touch of her skin, the scent of spring and flowers and vanilla that enveloped her, the silkiness of her dark hair beneath his fingertips. He could still feel the kiss burning against his own lips whenever he saw her. The past few weeks had been better, as he'd been keeping his distance, trying not to anger Francis any more than he already had. But staying away from her was almost harder than being near her. Being around her was painful because it only served as a reminder that she was a queen, engaged to a future king, and he was nothing more than the bastard son. But staying away from her seemed to only make his heart yearn for her more. Without her presence, a pit formed in his stomach that could only be remedied by her.  
And yet, here he was, returning her to his brother, returning her back to the man she should be with.

"Bash, you shouldn't come back with me. You'll be in terrible danger if—" she tried to argue again.

"And so will you be if I let you go off by yourself." He countered. "I'm coming and that's final."

Despite being one of the most stubborn, persistent people he had ever met, she sighed in resignation.

"Why are you so willing to risk your life for me?" she whispered.

Weighing the price of his next confession, Bash knew it would change their relationship—whatever that was—forever. And Francis would surely hate him if he knew what he was about to say. But then again, if it was found out that there had plans to legitimize him, he would be a dead man anyway, so what did he really have to lose?

"I'll surely be damned for this," he mumbled, and Mary looked up at him in confusion. "I'm doing this because I love you, Mary."

He heard Mary's intake of breath, her chocolate-brown eyes going wide with shock.

"What?" she breathed.

He shrugged, taking a step closer to her so they were only a few inches apart.

"I love you," he repeated, letting his hands rest on her upper arms. "There's no other explanation. There's no other explanation as to why I'm delivering you straight back into my brother's arms when all I want to do is hold you in my own."

-:-:-:-:-:-

Mary stood speechless, stunned, for a moment longer before she did something that astounded Bash and herself even more. Mary leaned up towards him, her mouth edging dangerously close to his. His lips were a centimeter away from hers and she paused, her brow creased in uncertainty. This was probably a very bad idea. But before she could change her mind, Bash leaned down and captured her mouth with his own. He kissed her softly, pulling her gently against him. Mary rested one hand against his chest, her fingers clutching at the thin fabric. With her other hand, she tentatively reached up and wound her fingers through his hair, and it was just as soft as she'd imagined it to be.

Bash's hands moved from her arms, one going up to cup her face gently, the other wrapping around her waist, bringing her—if possible—closer to him. Mary's heart hammered in her chest, and her veins seemed to catch fire, heat racing through her body. As he continued to kiss her, his lips oh so soft against her own, it seemed that the embers they'd been stoking ever since she arrived at the castle had finally caught fire.

Reluctantly, Mary pulled away, her breathing heavier than it had been a minute ago. She met Bash's eyes, which were dark blue with desire. She tried to think of something to say, but her brain produced nothing and Bash seemed equally at a loss for words.

"We-we, uh…we should go," she said, wondering if he could even hear her over own pounding heart.

Bash nodded. Mary turned, heading towards the road that would take her back to the castle, but Bash caught her wrist gently. She was about to open her mouth to say something before he kissed her one more time. It was nothing more than a quick, gentle press of lips on lips, but it made her heart flutter nonetheless.

"What was that for?" she whispered once he'd pulled away.

"Just one last kiss before we both face the wrath of my brother," he said quietly, smiling at her.

She smiled back and it felt like the weight of the world had just been lifted off her shoulders. Even though they would indeed face Francis' anger and King Henry's as well, it didn't seem to matter at the moment. With Bash by her side, Mary felt like she could challenge an army and come out on top. They started heading down the road, side by side, still free for the moment.

But that freedom was short-lived.

They hadn't been walking long—maybe half an hour—when the sound of horses and hoof beats echoed from behind them. Bash was instantly on high alert, drawing his sword from his belt. As they tried ducking back into the forest that lined the road, French soldiers erupted on all sides of them, surrounding them in a matter of seconds. Most were on foot, but there were several on horseback, towering over her and Bash.

"Lay down your weapon, Sebastian de Poitiers," one of the soldiers said loudly.

Mary looked around at the faces of the soldiers. She noticed that several of them looked regretful, guilty, at directing their sword-points at Bash, and she had to remind herself that these were men that he had fought with before, gone to battle with. But orders were orders. And she was sure that the orders were something along the lines of bringing her back safely and transporting Bash back as a prisoner.

Her assumptions proved correct once Bash lowered his sword and one of the men came forward and snatched it away, followed by a man who grabbed Bash's arms and yanked them—none too gently—behind his back.

"Bash," she tried to protest, but several more soldiers held her back.

"Lady Mary, please, stay back," a soldier told her, and though she wanted to argue, to yell at them to release Bash, she stayed quiet, knowing it would only make things worse if she tried to fight it.

Bash looked over at her as they shackled his wrists together.

"I'm sorry, Sebastian," the soldier cuffing him said quietly, but loud enough that Mary could hear.

Bash nodded at the soldier, never taking his eyes off of Mary. He looked upset, but he was calm, which somehow reassured her. As the soldiers led her over to a horse, she passed by Bash and fleetingly squeezed one of his hands in hers. She felt the pressure of his fingers, and then the warmth of his hand was gone all together as she mounted the horse. The other soldiers on horseback surrounded her, caging her in, protecting her.

Their group started moving out down the road, and she kept her eyes on Bash—who was walking ahead of her, surrounded by soldiers—the entire time. She felt her heart constrict, the weight returning to her shoulders, and all she could do was dread the moment when she would no longer be able to see him.

-:-

_You've showed me feelings I've never felt before_

_We're making enemies, knocking on the devil's door_

_And how can you expect me not to eat when the forbidden fruit tastes so sweet?_

_So let's be sinners to be saints_

_And let's be winners by mistake_

_The world may disapprove_

_But my world is only you_

_And if we're sinners then it feels like heaven to me_

-:-

**So there's chapter 5 for you guys! I hope you guys liked it =) I have to say, it was probably one of my favorite chapters to write so far.**

**So, this will be the last chapter till the show comes back on (3 days!). I haven't decided if I will continue this story yet, I'm sort of waiting to see what happens on the show first. But I'm not saying I **_**won't **_**continue, so don't fret. I'll let you guys know after the next episode airs. So stay tuned—don't go anywhere! **

**Don't forget to review! The support and feedback has been amazing so far, so keep it up! It really means a lot to me, I mean I honestly can't tell you guys that enough. **

**Thanks for reading!**

**-DaughterOfPoseidon333**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello, everybody!**

**So I think I freaked some of you guys out by saying I wasn't sure about continuing, so I apologize for that. I realized not very long after I posted that chapter that it would be insane **_**not **_**to update—especially after that last episode! Pretty great episode huh? =)**

**I'll kind of stick along the basic lines of the show, because I do think what happens in the show is important and whatnot, but I will add in more Mash scenes of my own making and stuff. And just for a heads up, this chapter will be a little more Frary-y, but that's just because I think Mary is still hurting over losing Francis. But don't fear, there will be plenty of Mash as well! This is a Mash story after all =)**

**And, as always, thank you guys for all the support—you're all truly amazing!**

**Yup, still don't own Reign.**

**Enjoy!**

Chapter 6

Mary walked slowly towards Bash, who was staring thoughtfully out the window. As she approached, she took a moment to glance up and down his body. Though he looked different, more regal, dressed in finer fabrics in shades of black and brown, the air about him was the same. His presence was still that of the bastard boy she had fallen in love with.

"You look so pensive," she commented as she came up next to him.

At the sound of her voice he turned, features lighting up a bit at the sight of her.

"It's unbelievable," he said in a low voice. "England, the Pope. My own father—putting me on the chopping block one minute and the throne the next." She stayed quiet and he exhaled, regret shadowing his features. "We both did this to save Francis, and yet, we both lost him as a result." He said.

Mary immediately felt guilt weigh down on her heart like a stone. She'd been trying so hard not to lose either of them, but now Francis wasn't all that far off from hating her for what she'd done. And by making the decision that she did, Bash had lost his brother's friendship as well.

"Well, the important thing is that he'll still be alive." She said, not just to reassure Bash, but to reassure herself as well. She had to keep reminding herself that though it pained her to let go of Francis, she had done it all to preserve his life.

"I still can't quite believe it…_king,_" Bash said, his face open with disbelief. "_Me. _King of France."

Mary felt the stone on her heart ease up a bit. She gave him a small smile. "I know you have doubts. But you won't have them tomorrow."

"No, no. My father would have to die first," he gave a little laugh and she smiled again. "But…our wedding _will _happen. As soon as my father gets back from Rome, he'll want the deal locked down—France and Scotland united—before the English queen dies."

Mary bowed her head and felt her heart skip a beat or two as she remembered her daydream of marrying Bash. At the time, it had been just that—a fantasy, a silly daydream that she could only wish about becoming true—and now here she was, standing side by side with Bash, side by side with her _fiancé. _It _was _unbelievable. She had grown up knowing she'd marry Francis, expecting to marry Francis, but in just a matter of hours, all that had been turned upside down on her. Things were reversed. Bash, who had never expected to be anything more than Henry's bastard son, was now going to rule not just France, but Scotland and England as well someday.

When she looked back up at Bash, on his face was a look of complete and utter awe. The disbelief written in the lines of his face made him seem younger somehow, more like a boy. And not only that, but beneath the wonderment, there was an underlying layer of love. She could see it in the crystalline sapphire of his eyes. It was the same affection he had graced her with by the lake as he listened to her drunken rant, the same affection his eyes held before she leaned up to kiss him in that field. "You're going to be my wife."

Mary couldn't help a smile from spreading across her lips. It hadn't felt real before, but now, hearing him say those words out loud, the weight of the stone on her heart lifted completely.

"How very unexpected," he finished quietly, his blue eyes bright as he looked at her.

As he turned to look out the window, she turned with him, but felt the need to say more.

"But not at all unwanted," she murmured quietly.

Bash turned back towards her. "Pardon?"

"Our marriage is unexpected, like you said," she started. "But I don't want you to think that I don't _want _to marry you."

"_Do _you? Want to marry me, that is?" he asked softly, a tiny bit of doubt creeping its way into his words.

"You mean to ask if I am upset that I'm not marrying Francis?" she asked, and when Bash lowered his head just slightly, she took that as confirmation.

She bit her bottom lip, inhaling slowly, ducking her head so as not to meet Bash's eyes. "A part of me still loves Francis, I won't deny that. There is a part of me that will always love him. But I think what I regret more is how badly things ended between us—all of us."

"I regret that as well," he agreed, though his brows pulled together dejectedly.

"But as sorrowful as I am at losing Francis, I haven't forgotten, Bash. I haven't forgotten any of what transpired between us while we were away from court. I knew what I was doing when I kissed you, and I meant it." she took his hands in her own, enjoying the way his rough, calloused palms felt against her own soft hands. She smiled up at him, easing just a little closer to him. "_Yes. _Yes, I want to marry you, Bash. I want you, and only you, by my side when we claim England."

Bash grinned at her, his azure eyes sparkling with joy. Slowly, Mary took one of her hands up and gently brushed his bruised cheekbone. His smile faded slowly away as she grazed the cut on his lower lip with her fingertips. She could feel his breath against her skin. She moved the same hand and cupped his cheek. As she moved to pull her hand away, Bash lifted his own hand and held it over her own, his fingers fitting their way in between hers.

"What is it, Mary?" he whispered.

"I'm sorry," she replied equally as quiet.

His brow furrowed in confusion. "What are you sorry for?"

"I shouldn't have gone behind your back," she said apologetically. "I shouldn't have proposed marriage to you without consulting you first."

Realization about what she was apologizing for dawned over his features and he pulled their hands away from his cheek, still keeping them entwined, and shook his head slowly.

"You don't need to apologize, Mary—"

"But I do," she argued. "It was wrong of me. You trusted me with the information of your mother's plans, and I took advantage of it, so for that I'm sorry. I know you never wanted to be king, but I didn't think I had another option. I had to save you _and_ Francis, and I—"

"Mary, Mary, shh," Bash soothed, running his hands up and down her arms. "It's alright. I should be apologizing as well, for getting upset with you."

"You had every right to be angry," she reasoned.

"Maybe, yes. But I don't like getting angry, not at you." he told her quietly. "I may not be too keen on the idea of becoming king, but with your guidance, _Queen _Mary, I believe that we can do this. Together." He smiled at her, making her feel as if she had done nothing wrong in the first place.

"How did I get so lucky as to have you by my side?" she sighed, feeling the corners of her mouth edge up into the beginnings of a smile.

"Well, it all started when your dog ran off into the woods," he teased. "And from there we somehow ended up with me being so lucky as to get the opportunity to see you in your wedding dress."

Mary blushed, ducking her head to try and hide the smile that accompanied it, though she didn't know what she had to be embarrassed about. She was _marrying _Bash after all. He was going to be her husband. And oddly enough, that left her just as awestruck as him.

** So I know that chapter was a little (or a lot) shorter than the last two, but I hope you guys liked it nonetheless =) **

** Review, pretty please! It does mean a lot to me! Let me know what you guys thought about the episode and the chapter and just anything really =)**

** Thanks for reading!**

** -DaughterOfPoseidon333**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey, guys! Wasn't really expecting to update so soon, but what can I say? I love this show and Mary and Bash are absolutely adorable, so =)**

**So this little piece of fluff that you're about to read weaseled its way into my brain and I just **_**had **_**to write it down, so here you go =) And, I know many of you want some original chapters—which I **_**will **_**have—and they'll mostly be along the lines of this, just little fluff pieces that fit in between the chapters that kind of go along with the really important stuff that happens in the show.**

**Anyway…Just fluff. It'll be short, but I hope it makes you smile just as much as it made me smile =)**

**I don't own Reign.**

**Enjoy!**

Chapter 7

Mary sank lower into the tub of hot water till the water hit her neck. She shut her eyes, humming softly to herself, letting the heat from the water release the tension in her body. It had been a busy couple of days, what with King Henry in Rome, leaving her and Bash in charge of everything. On top of all of that, they were preparing for their wedding, and she'd barely had a moment to relax. She kept her eyes closed but her humming petered out when she heard the doors to her room open, and she sat up, assuming it was the servant she'd sent off to fetch more hot water.

"Mary?" a voice called out, and too caught up in her own bliss, didn't realize that the voice was of a much deeper tone than that of the girl who'd gone to fetch her water.

"Over here," she replied, sitting up and attempting to peek around the corner of the semi-translucent screen that hid her from view.

"I've been looking for you everywh—" Bash rounded the corner and his eyes froze on her in shock. He seemed to look down for just the briefest second before his eyes darted back up to her face, but she wasn't sure.

"Ohmygod, Bash!" she gasped, turning around in the tub to hide her chest.

"Mary, I am so sorry—" he stammered, which was a first. She'd never heard Bash be anything but smooth with his words.

"Turn around!" she cried.

"Right, sorry," he apologized. "I'm not looking."

Mary climbed carefully but quickly out of the tub so as not to slip. She snatched her robe off the chair next to the tub where she left it and hastily put it on. Mary tried to slow her racing heart, but after taking several deep breaths, she could still feel her cheeks hot with embarrassment. In an attempt to look more presentable, she took her hair down out of its bun and fanned it across her shoulders. There wasn't much she could do about making her silk robe more presentable and it took more than a minute or two to put on one of her elaborate dresses. She took one last deep breath, then walked back towards Sebastian.

"You can look now," she said quietly.

He turned around slowly, as if didn't quite believe her. Once he was fully turned around, he kept his eyes on her face, not peeking down once.

"I am very sorry," he apologized again, his cheeks flushed slightly in embarrassment as well.

She felt herself blush again, ducking her head a little. "It's alright,"

"None of your maids were in here, and then you answered when I called—I assumed it was safe, but…" he trailed off, smiling just a hint.

"It's alright, Bash," she repeated. "You said you were looking for me?"

He folded his hands in front of him, his features taking on a business-lie quality. "Yes, your presence was requested in the throne room. More wedding planning, I'm afraid."

Mary stifled a groan, but judging by the grin on Bash's face, he could tell just how annoyed she was by the prospect of more wedding planning.

"I'll be down as soon as I can," she told him instead. "I guess I have to go find some maids first, though, to help me get dressed."

Smirking, Bash took a step closer to her. "_I _could help you. After all those times helping you on the run…you said so yourself I was nearly skilled enough to be your maid."

She put a hand to his chest to stop him from coming closer. Underneath her palm she could feel the beat of his heart like a drum. How was it that whenever he was around her, his heartbeat seemed so steady when hers skipped a beat every time he looked at her?

"Well, I think I might have a little trouble finding you a big enough dress to fit into," she teased, giving him a smile, letting her hand fall from his chest.

He chuckled. "And you call me the cheeky one,"

She watched as Bash's eyes gave her a quick once over, but it was enough to make her blush all over again. This time when he stepped closer, she didn't put a hand up to stop him. Their chests were nearly touching, and Bash wound an arm around her back, running his fingers up and down her spine, sending sparks of electricity through her veins as if they were live wires. He leaned down next to her ear, his warm breath tickling her skin.

"I didn't see anything, just so you know." He whispered.

She looked up at his face, the hint of mirth in his eyes, and she knew he was lying. Even if it had been a glimpse, he'd seen her, and the idea didn't faze her as much as it should've. She was about to call him out on his fib, but then she realized he'd said this for her benefit—to make her feel better, less embarrassed.

He stepped back, and she immediately missed the warmth his body had radiated. He gave a little bow, the familiar smirk playing on his lips.

"I will see you shortly, Your Grace." He said, stifling a laugh.

She shook her head, trying to fight a smile. "You don't have to call me that, you know? Especially now that we're engaged to be married."

"Oh, I know. Believe me. But I will continue to do it anyway, simply because it annoys you, and I quite enjoy seeing you get flustered." He teased.

Mary opened her mouth to say something, but couldn't think of anything to say. She felt herself blush yet again.

"See? Just like that," Bash sighed, smiling gently at her.

"Okay, I think it's time for you to leave," she said, grabbing his arm and turning him towards the door.

"One last thing," Bash said, turning to face her just as they reached the doorway.

"What?" Mary asked.

Bash leaned down and placed his lips against hers. Mary stood surprised for only a moment before she arched up on her toes to kiss him more fully back. When he pulled away, she felt breathless, as his kisses had a tendency to do that to her.

"I will take my leave now," he laughed and left her room.

She shut her door behind him and leaned against the wood, trying to steady her breathing.

"I _told _you she was absolutely mad for him," Kenna's voice came from the bedroom side of her room.

Mary gasped in surprise as her three ladies came from the other half of her room, beaming at her.

"Were you eavesdropping?" she asked.

"Maybe a little," Greer agreed.

"But…How did you even know Bash would be in here?" Mary asked them. They all exchanged an only half-guilty look.

"Kenna's the one who told your maid to take a little longer with the water," Greer said.

"Well, Lola's the one who told Bash you were in your room." Kenna said, smiling hugely. "I wanted to prove to these two that you were absolutely head over heels for Bash. Turned out I was right."

"I—" Mary was about to protest, but she'd be lying if she said she wasn't in love with Bash. After what had just happened, it would be clear to anyone.

"Just look at her blush," Kenna giggled.

"Stop it!" Mary cried, knowing she was blushing. Her protest turned into giggling as well, and she clamped a hand over her mouth to try and stifle her laughter.

"So, he helped you undress while you two were on the run as well?" Kenna teased.

"No—I mean yes, but it wasn't like that—you three are awful!" she said as her friends broke off into peals of laughter yet again. Mary tried to be angry with them, but how could she be when she was absolutely, utterly happy?

"Come, tell us everything," Greer said, leading the four of them back into her bedchambers.

"But I have to get to the throne room," she reasoned. "And I'm not even dressed!"

"The wedding planning can hold off for a little longer. I'm sure Bash will make up some excuse for you." Kenna said. "Now what was that about Bash becoming a maid?"

**So there it is, just a little fluff piece—hope you guys liked it!**

**Review, pretty please, it really does mean a lot!**

**Thanks for reading!**

**-DaughterOfPoseidon333**


End file.
